Music
by goldnote
Summary: House receives a gift that soothes his troubled soul. A something I thought up late at night. Has three chapters. My first House fic. Rated T just because it's House...
1. Music

_This is my first House fan fic. I wanted it to be a little cheesy and dramatic because I was in a mood to write something cheesy and dramatic. I usually don't really think of House as being a person, but I always liked that he played the piano after some really stressful moments, so I wanted to incorporate music. It doesn't really have a strict idea of what is going on, so it is up to the reader to fill in any little gaps I left (on purpose!) so that they would get more involved with the story. Here I go... (Oh, yeah, I don't own the characters, things, or settings involved with the TV show "House M.D.")_

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* * *

****Music.**

They spoke his name in fear and reverence. House was roaming the halls, the awkward thump of his cane echoing off the sterile walls of the hospital. The interns were terrified, darting into the nearest elevator or pretending not to take notice as the medical legend walked past, so scared they nearly dropped their clip boards. The members of the hospital staff who knew House, or thought they knew him, anyway, ignored him. Pretending to not be scared gave them more respect in the eyes of the interns, but they all stayed out of his way.

House paced the halls, one after another, taking no heed of what or who was in his way. The whispers followed him, but never reached his ears. They all knew what had put him in such a bad mood. "How could a man such as himself love?" they asked. "What sort of person could do this to such a demon?"

* * *

He finally made it to his office, sneering at the fools outside, with their patients and clip boards and rumors. People didn't care. People wanted entertainment. And, even if they were scared of him, they would take pleaseure in the fact that House was in pain. Not just physical pain, but emotional pain.

It was raining outside, a slow, steady rain. His leg cramped and hurt even more, but he did not allow himself to dig his painkillers out of his pocket. If she could fell his pain, she would be in agony, and at this thought, he smiled. It was a smile that only made him look more cunning and calculating.

How could he have been so weak? She knew she had upset him. Why else would she have left in such a hurry, running out of the room? God, he could still hear his own words in his head, basically telling the whole world over and over again that he loved her. He might as well have said that awful word himself instead of implying it. Now, all those who knew probably thought he was really in love her her and the object of his desire was terrified of him. Why shouldn't she be, House thought viciously. Even if the rumor was true, why shouldn't she be scared? I'm her boss. If she doesn't do what I want, I can do my best to make her life hell. But, what do I want of her? Nothing.

* * *

He laboriously walked up the sidewalk to his house, his leg hurting him more than it had in his office. His shadow was cast upon the door as he unlocked it and entered. House rolled his eyes as he stepped on something that had been slid under the door.

Dropping his cane in the process, House stooped down and picked the large, unmarked envelope up. Inside, there were several sheets of music, all hand written. Raising an eyebrow, he took off his jacket, hanging it on the rack by the door, slipping off his shoes, eyes never leaving the music.

* * *

Sitting down at the piano, House stood the music up on the rack and gently placed his fingers on the keys. His hands had a tenderness that had never been felt by another person or thing except when they were coaxing music from the piano. The notes were simple, the chords plain, but the song itself was beautiful. It was set in a minor key, the tune sad and hopeful at the same time. As he performed, House could have rolled his eyes. It was apparent who wrote this. He never knew she could compose. Too scared to write him a letter, she wrote him a song instead.

He played it twice before stopping. The rain, pit-pattering on the window, provided a soothing sound after the last strain faded away. House realized his hatred for her had faded, his soul felt scorched, burnt, after the fire he had ignited died with the music. He still didn't love her. He never would. But, for as much as he could sneer at himself, he knew there would be something there.

Standing, he gathered the music in one hand, his cane in the other and, turning off the lights, left the room, humming her gift to him.

* * *

_Okay, I am really embarrassed to have written this, but I liked the imagery at the end, and so I decided to post it. The person in the story isn't me or anyone I know. I can't compose! Hah... So, I just wanted to see what other people thought and if I should ever lift the pen again to make another House fic. Thanks for putting up with my story! Review if you want to... Thanks again!_


	2. Song

_Here is my second House fic! I really enjoyed writing my last one, so I decided to write a sequel to it! I hope you enjoy!_

Song.

He had that damn tune running through his head. That song she had given him. All day, he had limped around, even finding himself humming out loud once. He could almost see the notes in his mind's eye, feel the keys under his fingers, smell the sharp scent of paper. House had to admit, though, it had made clinic duty bearable.

He hadn't seen her. He knew she was avoiding him and House supposed he didn't care, sitting in his office, paperwork surrounding him. He had sick people and couldn't worry about her if he was going to save lives. He couldn't ignore the dream he had had last night, though. Angrily, House made himself snap back to reality. Daydreaming was something he usually smacked people with his cane for. In an act of poetic justice, his cane slid from where it was leaning on his desk and hit him in the leg. As he winced, House rolled his eyes. He supposed he deserved it. He didn't like it, but knew he deserved it.

* * *

She had passed by his office. He saw her as he looked up from his paperwork, her hair shinning from the light streaming in through the windows. House didn't even think she saw him, but decided that she was probably keeping her eyes averted, avoiding his gaze. She might even be as embarrassed as he was. How much ridicule had she gotten? Not that he cared, of course, House thought. It was just something to ponder.

With a snarl, he threw his pencil down on his desk. He was starting to get a headache and his pill bottle of painkiller was tempting. Instead of reaching into his pocket for it, he grabbed his cane instead, and the files that needed to be returned to the shelves from where they lay on his desk. Usually, that task was hers, but House could have laughed at the irony of it. He limped out of his office and took the elevator to the easy access storage rooms where files were kept.

Glancing around one of the rooms, House found himself with an even bigger headache once he saw how the files were organized. He doubted that the nurses could find files on a regular basis based off the system they had. He shoved folders into binds that looked appropriate, placed them on shelves that seemed needy of files, regardless of where they actually went.

Angry this had not helped but instead worsened his headache, House hurried out of the many files rooms. On his way to the elevator, he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure. She was in a file room, her braid swinging as she stretched to reach a shelf. House caught himself stopping to watcher her. If he held his breath, he could hear her singing. Her voice was wispy and thin, but House admitted she could carry a tune. He had never heard the words before, but the song was all too familiar. House shook his head and continues on to the elevator. Instead of going back to his office, however, he took the elevator all the way to the roof of the hospital.

* * *

He stood there, watching the sun set. He remembered his dream from the previous night. He could almost see her eyes, feel her hair, smell her perfume... House sneered at himself for being so weak, and he hated her for doing this to him, even though it wasn't her fault. He remembered a few of the words that went along with the tune and, after glancing around to make sure he really was alone, sang them quietly to himself, nearly savoring the words. Nodding his head in approval, he found he wasn't in so much pain as before. It was almost time for him to go home, his regular hours over, he noticed, taking note that the sun had almost disappeared.

As he limped across the roof, House decided to take the stairs down, at least for a flight or two.

_There we are! Please review! I post for people to tell me what they think! Thanks for reading! I appreciate it! Let me know what you liked/didn't like about it! _


	3. Dance

_This is the last of this little "trilogy" I decided to work on. I was going to make it poetic, but a poem doesn't really sound like House, does it? None of this sounds like something he would do, in fact, but it's fun to write! Thanks for the reviews!_

Dance.

It was getting harder and harder to avoid her. House was almost startled by the number of times he almost walked into a room, only to find she was there. He could almost hear the snickers of the hospital staff as they watched the tension grow. It made him furious. He knew he would start to lose the respect of the staff if he continued to avoid her, to appear nearly afraid of her.

The song was not fading away as time went on, as he expected it would, but grew louder. The words he remembered from her song kept appearing in anything he read or saw. He knew it was just his mind playing tricks; he knew he was being overly sensitive. He was being so... human.

* * *

House was sitting in his office, twirling his cane, managing to block out the tune, when he was called to a patients room over the intercom. Like usual, he waited until the third announcement before standing up. Limping down the hallway to the elevator, House rolled his eyes as the song started again.

* * *

This couldn't have been the right hallway, House thought as he hobbled past the rooms. Nearly all of the rooms were empty and he couldn't find the room number he had been ordered to report to. As he pasted by one particular room, he saw a flurry of movement that caught his eye. Stopping, he watched as the white lab jacket spun, the hair shimmered, the arms reached out... He had run into her again, only this time was worse. She was dancing. What an idiot, he thought. What was she thinking? She probably wasn't thinking, House thought, watching her twirl with a refined grace he never would have thought she had. How embarrassed she would be when she was caught, he wondered. It was a vacant room, clear of any medical equipment. He knew some doctors came to the vacant rooms for rest during the night shifts, but it was hardly dusk. If she had night duty, she really was not thinking. Why would she dance around like a fool when she was supposed to be asleep?

Shadows fell upon her face, the faint light coming from the parking lot lights streaming in through a window. She had taken off her shoes, leaving them by the bed. House could almost see the shadows on her cheekbones from her eyelashes from where he stood by the door. He slid the glass door open without a sound and, not even knowing why, he stepped into the room. As quietly as he could with his cane, he hobbled toward her, stepping into the shadow her figured cast upon the floor.

He couldn't dance. It was painfully obvious. His cane always got in the way; he couldn't hold onto this partner and his cane at the same time. He stopped in her shadow and waited for her to sense his presence in the room. Leaning on his cane, he put on his best leer when she would make her next delicate turn.

The floor was too slick, however, and the grip on the bottom of the cane was worn just as smooth as the tiled floor. The cane slid out from under him and House felt himself falling. The crack of his elbow and knee as he hit the ground made him wince and, instantly, he felt burning anger in his chest. How could he have been so stupid? Trying to get off the ground as quickly as possible, his leg was too weak to support all his weight and he fell again, the pain excruciating.

He felt hands; on his arm, the other on his side, as he attempted to stand again, leaning on the bed frame this time. He managed to stand, breathing heavily, face livid in anger and pain. Her body was inches away from him, her eyes looking into his, something like fear and uncertainty in them. Snarling, he took the cane she had picked off the ground for him and left the room as fast as he could, knee and elbow throbbing, his ego damaged. He had been such an idiot...

His name came over the intercom again and House suspected that they would send a search party out for him if he didn't show up for his damn patient. How ironic, he thought to himself bitterly, listening carefully to the number of the room. He was even on the wrong floor.

* * *

He played the piano again that night, barely glancing at the music. He had a good ear and played everything almost from memory. As his fingers touched the keys, pressing them down to create the desired result, he whispered the words that went with the notes. He allowed himself to imagine her dancing, just one last time, before he burned the memory and scattered the ashes.

Enough was enough. Tomorrow, he would end this once and for all. He would give the staff something else to whisper about. He was tired of playing games. As his fingers hit the last chord, House sighed because he knew he was going to have to burn the memory of the music, also. He was going to have to forget the words to the song.

The End.

_There we are! Please review and tell me what you think! Whatever you want to say, I want to hear! Thank you very much for reading! _


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